For some people, life is the process of knocking through walls to get out. For others, it is the building of walls.

Reading reassures us that no matter how alone we might feel, there are many others - spread as wide as history itself - who have felt the same way we have, who have occupied the rooms we find ourselves locked in at various points of our lives.

Could it be that first love was the only true love? And that after those first fires had been doused or burned out, men and women chose whom they would love based on worldly needs, and then reenacted the rituals and feelings of that first pure experience - nursed the flames that once burned of their own accord

I think anyone can fall in love, if you're open and you're willing, but the real test is sustaining it after all the excitement has worn off.

Love is also a violence, and cannot be undone.

I tried to convey to the boy how people's lives are often altered by curved lines read slowly from paper, sand, or stone.

For some people, life is the process of knocking through walls to get out. For others, it is the building of walls.